#tragicash

[hrina]

“Mike?” you called from your comfortable position on the couch. Your head was resting on the arm of the sofa, your legs tossed carelessly onto your husband’s lap as his bright eyes trained intensely on the video game he was attempting to master. You watched his fingers move across the controller swiftly, buttons being pressed rapidly.

“Hm?” Michael hummed, his eyebrows lifting and his eyes never leaving the screen. You studied his side profile, biting your lip and hesitating. His hair was a shocking black, his face pale and clean-shaven. Your gaze drifted down to the piercing in his ear, to the prominent jugular that you loved to kiss.

“I-I need to tell you something,” you told him. Michael seemed to sense the nervousness in your voice. Immediately his index finger landed on a small button of the controller and the game he had been playing came to an abrupt halt. He set his controller down onto the couch beside him, angling his body towards you and looking at you with wide, curious eyes.

“What’s up angel?”

You pushed yourself up into a sitting position, retracting your legs from your husband’s lap and crossing them, your knees protruding. Sighing, you shot a glance around your lounge.

Despite Michael’s many protests, you’d turned your living room into something of a festive masterpiece. There were stockings hanging from the fireplace and little multicoloured lights running along the walls. Michael had groaned, stating that you didn’t need decorations to get into the holiday spirit. All you needed was eggnog and a few badly-sung karaoke tunes.

The only component he hadn’t complained about was the mistletoe hanging from every doorway in the house, and you had to be careful so that you didn’t coincidentally end up together under the fern. Michael was all too willing to follow that part of tradition, and often the mindless pecks lead to far more.��

“I--,” you began, “I know what I want for the holidays.”

Michael processed your words, his brows furrowing before he finally broke into a wide grin. “Yeah?” he beamed, reaching out for you. You allowed him to grip your arm and tug you forward into his lap, instinctively parting your legs so that you straddled him.

Reflexively, your hands found their way to the nape of his neck, fingers fiddling with his hair, relishing in the wispy, soft texture. Michael wiggled his eyebrows, “Well go on. Don’t leave me hanging.”

You gazed at him adoringly, wondering how the hell you’d gotten so lucky. Michael’s light green eyes were shining with excitement, a twinkle that--you’d noticed--was only ever present when he looked at you. It was comforting, and this sense of security was what pushed you to utter the words that had been on the tip of your tongue for a while now.

“I want a baby.”

You waited with a held breath, and for a long moment, there was only silence. You looked down at your lap, not being able to meet his gaze--what if he wasn’t ready yet?

“A baby,” Michael breathed, and without bringing your gaze to his, you nodded somewhat sheepishly. Your husband continued in a soft voice, “You want a baby.”

“Yeah,” your voice came out as a hoarse whisper and you immediately cringed, clearing your throat and trying again, “Yeah...I do.”

“Well, I mean, I don’t think I can wrap that,” Michael joked, and despite your nervousness and anticipation, you let a giggle fall from your lips, finally bringing yourself to slant your head up and look at him. There was a small smirk playing on his rosy lips, his shoulders relaxed--he seemed to be at ease with your request.

“You can’t wrap anything,” you teased shyly, and your husband guffawed but nodded, a smile spread across his lips. He cleared his throat, tapping your thigh before standing abruptly, “Alright, let’s go.”

“What?” you sputtered, your eyes widening at the sudden change in altitude. You gripped onto Michael’s shoulders, your legs automatically winding around his waist as his hands crept downward, cupping your bum through your comfy black leggings.

“You want a baby,” he said simply, shrugging, “I want a baby. So let’s make a baby, yeah?”

He paused right underneath the doorway of the lounge, grinning at you deviously and flicking his eyes up. You followed his gaze, perceiving the familiar mistletoe hanging above your heads and chuckling slightly, shaking your head at his antics.

“Yeah,” you breathed as Michael leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours, “Let’s make a baby.”

[girlwhocried5sauce]

You stared at the ceiling from your position on the couch, where you had slept every night this week considering it was now nearly impossible to sleep comfortably in your bed without Calum holding you, not to mention the mixed smell of cigarettes and his cologne still stained the bedsheets even after three washes. You sat in silence, not being able to help the fact that every few minutes you replayed that night over and over in your head. Even though it was only seven days ago all the tears that were spilled on the night followed by screaming harsh words at the top of your lungs stayed fresh on your mind making it cloud with several questions such as where did it all go wrong and what happened to forever? Though your thoughts were quickly interrupted when you heard the sound of little paws hitting the ground followed by almost inaudible whimpering coming from your six-month-old puppy who brushed his nose up against you letting out small cries while he held what looked to be a shirt in his mouth. “C’mere boy” You said, sitting up straight on the couch and patting your lap, inviting your puppy to join you. “Whatcha got there?” You gave him a small smile before he dropped the shirt from his mouth. You held the piece of blue clothing in front of you and read aloud the white text that was spread across the front. “MAINE” you said, sighing and pulling your glossy eyed pup closer to you because it was only then you realised you weren’t the only one who missed Calum. 

[julyxvi]

ceo!luke inspired by an au from this list. consider this a prequel of sorts to this other ceo!luke piece, but you don’t need to have read that (though it’d be pretty cool if you did) for this to make sense and vice versa.

word count: 4268

Y/N

Luke held the tiny scrap of paper in his hands, re-reading your name over and over again until he probably could somewhat convincingly imitate your handwriting (that you hated but he found to be neat and perfect, unlike his own).

He’d pulled your name for Secret Santa and he sort of wished that he’d pulled someone else’s name instead. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what to get you or didn’t like you. No, quite the opposite actually. He knew just what to get you and he was hoping you’d never find out it was from him (and that he’d been in love with you for 1234567 years).

Luke didn’t believe in love at first sight, but he believed in a click and he knew that – at least on his end – that there had been a click when he’d first met you.

You’d been Ashton’s girlfriend’s roommate your freshman year of college and you two had gotten along so well that you ended up becoming best friends and roommates for the rest of college. Naturally, when she and Ashton started dating, you’d been introduced, but you’d never really been around when Luke – or Calum or Michael – was too (or if you were, then Luke had never been there). So by the time you two had finally met, you were well acquainted with Ashton, Calum, and Michael, but had not a clue as to who he was besides his first name, which was why your first words to him were, “Why are you wearing a suit?”

In your defense, he probably could’ve stopped by his penthouse apartment to change into more casual clothing before heading over to Ashton and his girlfriend’s apartment, but he’d gotten held up at work and was already late enough for the dinner they were hosting as it was that he’d decided not to. All his friends knew that as the CEO of his own company, suits were his uniform for work, and he’d assumed that because you had mutual friends with him that you would’ve known too, but apparently not.

Still, Luke found himself charmed by your straightforwardness. He was used to his friends being that way with him, but never complete strangers – most of them knowing who he was and if they didn’t, they just knew that he was someone who was important enough to not even think of potentially disrespecting. You though, you didn’t seem to care, even after Michael had told you “Lukey here is the CEO of his own Fortune 500 company.”

All you had done was shrug and say, “Bill Gates could show up here in a suit and I’d still ask why he was wearing a suit to a casual evening with friends,” making Luke even more smitten with you.

Over spaghetti (because that was still Ashton’s best dish in all the years Luke had known him), you’d been sat next to him and asked him about himself, specifically more about his “apparent CEO position” – when he became CEO, how he became CEO at such a young age, why he wanted to start his own company, and so on. He normally didn’t mind answering such questions, especially when he knew that he’d be able to impress someone by doing so, but he knew you didn’t care about his position and were asking out of genuine curiosity so he did his best to adequately answer your questions. Though he was sure he ended up telling you more than you actually wanted to know, considering the entire time he was trying to ignore how your close proximity was making his palms sweat (because he was Luke Hemmings, CEO, damn it).

Luke had hoped he’d impressed you anyway, but he couldn’t tell because your face and body language gave nothing away – showing none of the signs he was used to recognizing when he knew that someone was interested in him. Truth be told, he’d also hoped that he’d be able to get a number from you by the end of the night and a date by the end of the week, but you didn’t seem to even be remotely thinking about giving him your number. He’d even wondered if getting your number from someone else – which would’ve been a first for him – would’ve been weird and creepy.

After Luke had sufficiently talked about himself and his profession, he’d asked you the same, finding out that you worked in a building just not too far from his. On a whim, he suggested that you go to lunch with him sometime since, unless he had lunch plans with (potential) business partners, he typically ate lunch by himself in his office – Ashton and Calum worked too far away and Michael was usually still asleep during lunchtime (and well, going to lunch with Ashton’s girlfriend just seemed too weird of a concept to him).

To his (pleasant) surprise, you’d actually agreed, claiming that some new company during lunch would be nice. While he was being daring and apparently having a lucky streak, he’d asked for your number, “so we can make those lunch plans…unless you’d rather exchange office numbers, though it’s easier to reach me on my cell phone than my office phone, but I can tell my receptionist and assistant to always give me your calls…”

Luke had made you laugh, which made him realize that he’d been rambling, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much because he was pretty sure that your laugh was his new favorite sound and you’d told him that “exchanging cell phone numbers is fine…though I’m flattered that I’d be able to speak directly to Mr. Hemmings” before extending your hand to silently ask for his phone. He’d too eagerly complied – nearly dropping his phone from how quickly he was trying to retrieve it from his pocket – especially considering that you probably didn’t see the exchange in a remotely romantic way. Regardless, you’d agreed to have lunch with him sometime and agreed to give him your number and if he couldn’t go out on a date with you soon, then maybe he’d be able to go out on a date with you later.

Luke had thought that you two would go out to lunch, he would ask you on a date, and then you two would live happily every after (or something), but the one lunch that he thought of as a lunch date actually turned into lunches – that he still thought of as lunch dates – and he had yet to actually ask you out on that date – a real date – he’d been wanting to go on since he first met you.

Still, it was during these lunch dates – or lunches, whatever – that Luke started to fall for you. Though granted, he’d probably already begun his descent on that first lunch date (lunch) when he’d met up with you at your office.

He wouldn’t call himself the most attractive person ever, but he knew that he was at least good-looking, and that even if he didn’t have a rather nice face, he knew that people at least found attractiveness in the way he dressed and carried himself. Thus, he wasn’t too surprised when he’d shown up to your office and your co-workers had gawked at him. Whether you’d noticed – or noticed and just ignored the fact – he didn’t know, but he’d brought up the fact as you two headed out, remarking that you were the first person he’d crossed paths with who didn’t fawn over him.

“That’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?” you’d asked, a smile tugging at your lips.

“What’s presumptuous?” he’d questioned.

“Assuming that all people you cross paths with fawn over you,” you’d answered, “I sincerely doubt that’s actually the case and for you to assume that is very presumptuous.”

“I’m sorry?” he’d guessed, not sure what you were expecting from him. Though, to be fair, Luke wasn’t really sure what he’d expected when he’d started the conversation either – to make you realize (hopefully) that you were actually interested in him as more than a friend, perhaps. He hadn’t realized he was being presumptuous and hoped he hadn’t turned you off of him. He just wanted you to like him.

“What are you apologizing to me for?” you’d wondered. “You pointed something out and I just pointed something else out. There’s no need to apologize to me.” He’d opened his mouth, to try and perhaps rectify the situation for himself, but you’d continued speaking, changing the subject. “What do you think about Mexican food? There’s this place down the street I’ve been to with my co-workers. It’s not bad and they have this lunch special where it’s two tacos for the price of one, since I know you’re really struggling with money and all.”

And really, it’d just been a downward spiral for Luke from there, with him falling for you more and more with each lunch (date) you two went on. He liked that you saw him for more than just his position. He liked that you were independent. Liked that you had your own career and goals. He liked that you never let him pay for lunch, going so far as to threaten to literally fight him for your right to pay your half of the bill sometimes. (Okay, he actually didn’t like that as much because he wanted to pay for you, but he respected and liked that you didn’t care about his money nonetheless.)

You two had eventually eaten out so much that some days, you decided just to have lunch at each other’s offices – with all of your co-workers knowing who he was and all of his co-workers and employees knowing who you were. You two saw each other so frequently to the point where his receptionist eventually stopped batting an eye every time you stepped through the elevators and your co-workers did the same.

“Who did you get?” you asked, bringing Luke out of his reverie. You leaned over to try and get a peek at the scrap of paper in his hands with your name on it, but he crumpled up the scrap of paper before you could even get a glimpse.

“Defeats the purpose of Secret Santa if I tell you, doesn’t it?” Luke wondered, keeping his hands out of the way of yours as you playfully tried to pry the scrap of paper from his hands.

“That means you got me then,” you declared triumphantly, a grin on your face.

“No, it means I don’t trust you to not tell who I actually got,” Luke corrected, your grin so infectious that he couldn’t help but smile himself.

“I’m hurt that you would think that I can’t keep a secret. To think that you would think that of me after all this time,” you dramatically gasped – and god, you were so fucking cute and Luke so badly wanted to kiss you – before giggling and then turning to talk to Ashton’s girlfriend. No doubt to ask her the same question you’d asked him moments ago.

So here he was – tons of lunches later and completely in love with you. He still hadn’t made a move. You probably still only thought of him as a friend.

“Guess what?” you practically sang while you walked into his office, bags of Chinese takeout in your hands.

Luke looked up from his phone where he’d been mindlessly scrolling through social media, all intentions of doing work and being productive having gone out the window when you texted him that you were on your way. Like always, he was happy to see you – always looking like a vision – but then his gaze spotted the bags of takeout and he eyed them warily.

Though you two had agreed on the food for lunch, as usual, you refused to let him pay. At all. Whenever you two ate lunch in his office and you were the one picking up the food, you never let him pay. Not even for his half. Each time, he wondered how he could at least sneak you payment, but each time he thought he’d found a way, you’d found the money and left it somewhere for him to come across once you’d left. There had been many a time where he’d opened a file or a drawer or even his laptop and found money.

“What?” Luke wondered, averting his gaze away from the bags and back to your eyes. He watched as you settled yourself into the chair he’d already pulled up for you, helping you unpack the containers and then going on to guess, “Did you get a good fortune?”

“To know that I got a good fortune, I’d have to have already eaten a fortune cookie,” you pointed out, “and I haven’t eaten a fortune cookie yet because we haven’t eaten our food yet and no one eats the fortune cookie first.” You shook your head and then leaned in, beckoning for him to come closer, which he did without a second thought. “I got my gift from my secret santa.”

“Oh really?” Luke asked, feigning surprise and curiosity. “When?”

“Today!” you exclaimed. “Right when I came into work. There it was – just hiding amongst my desk decorations and supplies. Would’ve missed it if that Tiffany Blue color weren’t so noticeable.” You propped your chin on your hand, staring out one of the floor-to-ceiling windows as if reminiscing the moment you’d found his gift, which made Luke’s heart fill with even more fondness for you. After a moment, your gaze met his eyes again, your head tilting to the side. “I don’t know how my secret santa got my gift to me without me knowing though. I mean, you all know where I work so it’s not like any of you would’ve had to ask me for that information, but my co-workers said they didn’t know anything.” You trailed off, your brow furrowing in thought. “Unless they’re lying to me.”

They were. He had stopped by your office once he knew you’d be gone for the day. A couple of your co-workers were still in, but they had agreed to not say anything about him being your secret santa.

Luke shrugged. “Maybe,” he replied. “What did your secret santa get you from Tiffany’s?”

“Oh Luke,” you cried, taking one of his hands in one of yours. The volume of your voice started to rise with every word you spoke and your grip on his hand tightened. “It’s this necklace with my birthstone that I saw in a catalog and have always wanted, but never got around to actually buying myself. Not because of lack of money or anything, but it just wasn’t something I’d buy myself just because, you know? Only to treat myself with.” Your grip on his hand loosened as your brow furrowed again. “I don’t know how they knew I wanted it though. I’d never told anyone. Not you. Not Ash’s girlfriend. Not my co-workers. No one.”

That was true, but you had left the catalog – flipped open to the necklace in question’s specific page – out on your desk one time when he’d stopped by your office to have lunch with you. At the time, Luke didn’t think he would ever do anything with the knowledge that you were eyeing a necklace from Tiffany’s – thinking that gifting you the necklace for your birthday or the holidays would be too much – but when he’d drawn your name for Secret Santa, he knew that was exactly what he was going to get you for your gift.

“Huh. Weird,” Luke commented, pretending to be equally perplexed. “Where’s the necklace? Are you wearing it yet?”

He glanced down at your neck, but didn’t see any sign of the necklace in question.

“I have it with me, but it’s still in the box,” you revealed sheepishly. His eyebrows drew downward and you shrugged before sighing, “I don’t know, Luke. I don’t know if I can wear it. It feels like too much just for a secret santa gift. I mean, the necklace was really expensive–”

“But sentimental,” Luke interjected, trying not to sound glum, “since it’s a specifically a necklace with your birthstone and you’ve always wanted it.”

“Yeah, but I can’t accept a gift that costs that much,” you confided, an expression of distress on your face.

“I’m sure your secret santa wouldn’t have given you the necklace if they didn’t genuinely want to give it to you and for you to have it,” Luke assured you.

“I know and I appreciate their generosity and thoughtfulness, don’t get me wrong, I’m not ungrateful,” you began, “but this is just secret santa. For the holidays or my birthday, that’d be a little more understandable. Even then though, I still wouldn’t be able to accept a gift like that unless it were from my hypothetical significant other.”

“Well, any guesses as to who your secret santa is?” Luke asked, changing the subject so his mind couldn’t dwell on the fact that he wanted to be your significant other.

“You know, I actually did think about this,” you said, sitting up straighter. He wondered if you were aware that you were still holding his hand, but it didn’t seem like you were and he wasn’t planning on saying anything. “I thought about this from the moment I saw the Tiffany Blue box up until the moment I walked through your office door and I think my secret santa is Calum.”

“Calum?!” Luke exclaimed, clearing his throat afterwards. He hoped he didn’t sound too shocked and offended.

If you thought his outburst was strange, you didn’t give any indication. “Yeah, Calum,” you confirmed, nodding your head.

“Why Calum?” Luke questioned. In all the time that he’d known you and for all the remarks that should have hurt, this was the first time you’d actually done so and he didn’t even think you were actually trying.

“I don’t think Ashton would get me such an expensive yet sentimental gift. Nor would his girlfriend. And I just can’t see Michael doing so either. Not for me of all people just for Secret Santa anyway,” you explained, shrugging. “I don’t know. Calum just has that quiet thoughtfulness to him, don’t you think? The kind that notices things about people that you wouldn’t expect him to and does things for them without a second thought.”

“I’m surprised your first guess wasn’t me,” Luke admitted, sounding more casual than he felt. Calum. You thought Calum had given you the necklace. Calum. Not that he had anything against the brunet – after all, Calum was one of his best friends – but the fact that you had thought that Calum had given you the necklace and not him stung.

“I thought you would be too obvious of a choice, you know?” you replied. A small smile spread across your face, one that Luke weakly returned. “Like, of course, the CEO of his own multibillion dollar company would be the one to give me a really expensive but sentimental gift that I’ve always wanted.” You paused to roll your eyes in jest, your smile widening. “Too obvious.”

“Yeah, too obvious,” Luke mumbled in fake agreement, dazedly watching you as you inspected the containers before sliding the one with his food over to him.

Luke got as far as opening the container and picking up utensils, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually eat any of his food, too busy staring off into space as his conversation with you replayed in his mind.

“Luke?” you beckoned, bringing him out of his thoughts. His eyes met yours and found you looking at him with your eyebrows knit, an expression of concern on your face. “Are you okay? You haven’t touched any of your food and you didn’t say anything or try to stop me or even notice that I took a dumpling from you.”

“I…” Luke started, trailing off and looking at you with his mouth agape, which only made the crease between your eyebrows deepen. He closed his mouth, gulping afterwards. “What if I told you that I had actually been the one to give you the necklace and still have the receipt as proof?”

You blinked at him, your expression unchanging, before setting down your utensils and shifting your body so you could better face him. “I would…” you slowly began, crossing your hands together and then bringing one leg up to hug it against your body, “…I would thank you for the necklace, but I would have to return it to you because I can’t accept a gift that costs so much, not for Secret Santa and especially not when we’re not in a relationship.”

“It’s a necklace with your birthstone that you’ve always wanted though,” Luke reminded you.

“I know, Luke, and I appreciate the sentiment, really, I do, but it’s also a really expensive necklace. I’m sure the cost was probably pocket change for you and I know money isn’t a worry for you, but I don’t want you for your money,” you argued.

Luke blinked at you. “What?” he questioned in disbelief, unsure if he’d heard you correctly.

As if just now realizing what you’d said, your eyes widened and you clapped your hands over your mouth before averting your gaze to the floor. Eventually, you removed your hands from your mouth to reach down and retrieve your purse from the ground, fishing around until you revealed a Tiffany Blue box. “I can’t accept this, Luke,” you told him, your gaze still refusing to meet his. You took his hand and placed the box on his open palm. “It’s a beautiful necklace and the fact that you thought to get this for me just for Secret Santa is so incredibly sweet and I really, really, appreciate the sentiment and that you would do this just for lil ol’ me, but you should give a gift like this to someone you love, not me.”

Luke took a deep breath. “What if I did give that gift to someone I love?” he ventured.

Your eyes snapped up to meet his. “What?” you asked, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

Luke deeply sighed, knowing that there was no pretending about the depth of his feelings for you now. “Yeah,” he confirmed, before going on to admit, “I wasn’t going to tell you – I was hoping you’d never find out actually – because you never seemed interested in being more than friends so I didn’t want to ruin that by letting you know or ever asking you out even though I’ve wanted to since we first met, but you’ve become one of my best friends and I– I just– I’d rather have you in my life as just my friend than to not have you in my life at all.” He paused, taking his bottom lip in-between his teeth for a moment and then releasing it. “You– you’ve become one of the most important people in my life, you know?” He stopped to shake his head and chuckle. “Out of all my friends, you’re who I’d put and have put as my emergency contact. I just– I didn’t want to lose you.”

Silence filled the wide expanse of his office and the way you’d rolled your lips into your mouth told him that you were thinking about what to say. He could only hope that you’d respond positively, but he was bracing himself and already prepared for the worst.

“I would’ve said yes, for the record,” you finally said.

Luke’s eyebrows drew downwards. He couldn’t say that’s what he would’ve guessed for your response to be. “Yes to what?” he wondered.

“If you would’ve asked me on a date,” you clarified, making his heart start to beat faster. Your lips stretched into a smile. “Do you really think I’d still be spending every single one of my lunches with you if I didn’t have some interest in you, Luke? I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’ve become one of my best friends and one of the most important people in my life and one of my emergency contacts too, but I literally spend every lunch time with you. That’s an hour of my time each day, five days a week, not including the time we keep in contact outside of work.” In jest, you rolled your eyes, teasingly adding, “I thought you knew women, Mr. Hemmings.”

“I thought I did until I met you,” Luke admitted. He used his free hand to pull your chair closer to him afterwards so your legs knocked together before proposing, “Instead of lunch, what do you say we go out for dinner sometime?”

You took his free hand in one of yours, twining your fingers together. The way your soft hands felt in his, the way they felt like a perfect fit, made Luke smile.

“It’s about time you asked, Mr. Hemmings,” you replied, your smile widening even further. “I’ll even wear the necklace you bought me for Secret Santa for the occasion.”

“And not fight me over the bill for once?” Luke hopefully suggested.

You rolled your eyes in jest again, answering, “You’ll just have to see, won’t you?”

And as the two of you went back to eating your now cold lunches, Luke found himself looking forward to the end of the workweek even more, hoping that this one date would be the start of many.

[5sosbang]

Kiss Me, Please - Luke Hemmings One Shot

@tragicash and @hemmocrat are hosting a breakup!5sos night and u kno what..... im a hoe for angst so here u go

summary: michael’s wedding reminds luke of you and god damn this is some angsty shit ill be honest

word count: 3.7k+

warning: a lot of swearing, some heavy petting but other than that not much tbh lol

a/n: i rly like the idea for this but i wish i could have written it better tbh like this is p shit but i wrote it in like two hours so forgive me pls lol

Luke has never been the type to make speeches. He’s always been The Quiet One. The one that sits behind during interviews and giggles while the others make jokes and play around, pulling pranks on others. He remembers a few years back when Calum went through a phase where he would sit in the same way that Luke did, ignoring questions, in his own little bubble. But it didn’t last long. He went back to his fun-loving self as usual, and Luke was left in the shadows again.

He remembers feeling at peace in only one place; on stage. The only place he was upfront, the one who made the crowd scream by pressing his lips against his mic as he prepared himself for his solos. Then, you came along, and his one comfortable place turned into two, the second being your arms.

Now, as he stands up, dressed in a tux with a bow-tie that might as well be fingers, squeezing his throat into a tight knot. Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s standing in front of everyone, about to talk about how his best friend is in love. How he’s so incredibly happy for Michael and his newlywed wife, Jordan. But, if he’s being honest, all he can think about it you. He can imagine you wearing a dress of a similar suit, all white and tissue and elegant.

He hears the chair scrape against the linoleum floors of the venue that the reception is being held at, his glass of champagne gripped in between his sweating fingers as he prepares his best man speech.

He’s never been this nervous in front of crowds, but he guesses it’s because the crowds that he’s used to are usually much younger than the array of older men and women at Michael and his wife’s wedding.

“Um,” He coughs into the palm that isn’t holding his drink, listening as people quiet down. It’s a bit awkward, if he’s being honest. But, whatever. It’s fine. He’s fine. He can do this. Right? Yeah, of course. Oh shit, people are starting to look at him, and he swears that this tux is gonna stick to him if he doesn’t stop persperating and holy fuck.

“I don’t know why Michael chose me to be his best man,” He stutters out, staring out at the sea of people watching him intently. His statement causes a rumble of laughter throughout the crowd, and he feels a gentle smile tug at his mouth, but it doesn’t last long.

He coughs again, setting his glass down.

“I don’t know why Michael chose me to be his best man,” He repeats. “But I do know why he chose Jordan to be his wife. I’ve known Michael for a long time. Probably too long, actually,” He earns another laugh from the people who know Michael, not the people from Jordan’s side of the family. “But I, uh, I do know that no one’s ever made Michael as happy as he is when he’s around Jordan. I remember this one time when we were on tour, and Michael was freaking out because he had ‘just met the girl he was gonna marry’,” Luke says, adding the quotations.

“I remember Cal, Ash, and I looking at him like he was crazy. Like, we all had this kind of feeling that we were gonna head home for a long time, and Michael just came running into the bus saying how he was gonna stay in America. It was pretty crazy, because we had all tried to date girls in America, but it just never worked out, you know? ‘Cos of distance, and stuff,” Luke explains, and he can feel that people are starting to tune him out because he isn’t talking about the couple anymore, and jesus is he mad that he didn’t write down his speech.

“Um, yeah, and we were all like, ‘Okay Michael, that’s great’, because we all thought he was talking nonsense. And then fast forward a few months, and Michael is telling us that he was going to buy a ring. That’s when we really thought he was crazy,” He laughs, looking at his best friend, who gives him one of those looks. “But, I can honestly say that I’ve never been prouder of Michael for having the guts to do what he did. It takes a lot to propose to someone, I should know.”

The room gets uncomfortably silent and awkward after that statement. He’s sure that it’s only people who are close to Luke that know what he’s saying. Calum, who’s sitting next to him, squeezes his wrist. Luke shakes him off in a way that says I’m fine, but really means I’m not! I’m not fine at all!

“Michael,” Luke turns to look at his friend. “You are one of the stupidest, gutsiest people I know. Jordan, if he fucks up, I’m sorry, but this is what you signed up for,” He smiles at the bride, and she smiles back at him, leaning on her new husband’s shoulder.

Luke raises his champagne glass above his head, his body turned towards the newlyweds.

“To Michael and Jordan.”

Everyone claps after they take a sip, and Luke takes a seat, feeling Ashton and Calum pat his back.

“Great speech, bro,” Ashton nods at him, but there’s this sort of sympathy in his eyes that makes Luke want to crawl into a hole.

“Thanks,” He swallows. He takes his champagne glass and downs what was left of it. “I need a drink.”

“Luke,” Calum says warningly.

“I’m fine,” He stands up, patting Calum’s shoulder. “I’ll be at the bar.”

*

Okay, Luke is fucked up. Like, seriously fucked. His head feels so dizzy, and he can’t remember when he took his bowtie off, but it isn’t on his neck anymore and Michael might actually kill him if he sees Luke like this.

He feels his eyebrows over his eyes, like they’re sinking down over his hooded eyelids. He feels the same way he would if he were seasick, and he doesn’t understand why. He knows the feeling well, what with living in Sydney, where there’s a beach every ten miles.

He stumbles across the room where couples are dancing (which just makes him want to throw up more). He would find Calum, but he thinks he remembers seeing him chatting up a bridesmaid.

He walks out of the room the reception is being held in, watching the floors change from concrete to some tacky hotel carpet pattern. The world is spinning much more than it should be, which might have something to do with the excessive amounts of alcohol he’s consumed, but whatever. He doesn’t care. All Luke wants to do is forget. Forget forget forget.

“Sir?” A woman at the front desk calls, and his face turns at what seems like slo-mo for him, but is probably really fucking fast to her.

“Hmm?” He says lazily, trying to play off the fact that he’s drunk. It obviously doesn’t work, because the next thing she asks him is if he’s alright.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, I’m fine,” He says, his words doubling due to the fact that he’s drunk. That’s always been his thing. His tell. It had been you who had figured it out, the fact that he said things twice when he was drunk. It was, in simple terms, really fucking easy to know when he had had a bit too much.

“Are you sure?” She steps out from behind the counter, and he sizes her up. She’s about 5′5, with blonde hair and a splattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks. She’s cute, and she looks about twenty-two, which would mean that she would be the same age as him, and, well. She isn’t ugly.

“Yeah, yeah” He says, eyes trailing over her bright pink lips for a second, wondering how they would look pressed against his skin. Her lipstick stain would probably look like child’s play compared to yours.

“Are you sure? Do you need me to escort you to your room, sir?” She questions, biting her lip. And, oh. That’s what she wants. Luke didn’t catch on before, but he guesses that he could drown himself in someone else’s body for a night.

“Actually,” He says, gulping down whatever was caught in his throat. “Actually, I think-- I think we could go to the beach instead, hmm? You wanna go to the beach?”

She smiles widely at him, and he feels bad for leading her on. She looks nice. Really nice. But -there’s always a but-... she isn’t you.

“I think that would be really fun, my shift just finished,” She says seductively, but he doesn’t really care. He kind of feels like an asshole for not caring, but what can you do.

He watches with lazy eyes as she bends down, purposefully making her ass jut out in front of his face, in front of her desk. She pulls out a wine bottle from the mini fridge under the counter and smirks up at him.

He grins at her, his hand reached out to her.

*

He’s got his heels planted in the sand of the beach outside the venue, where there’s a view streamers left over from the ceremony where Michael and Jordan had exchanged rings. Luke’s got the bottle of wine gripped in his hand, his lips barely grazing the side of his thumb as he takes a long swig.

He passes it off to the girl who he’s sure told him her name, but he honest to God cannot remember, which, well.

“So,” She says, swallowing the wine, turning towards the blonde.

“So,” He smirks at her.

She grins back at him, and the insides of her lips are stained this kind of blueberry shade that doesn’t at all match the vibrant pink she’s wearing on her lips.

She leans her body into his, her hand on his shoulder as her face nears his. Luke takes in a breath, looking into her eyes as she stares at him.

He makes the move, breathing in again and pressing his lips to hers, his hands feeling around blindly for her cheeks. He cups her face as one does when kissing another person, and his eyes are closed, and his lips are against hers but something about it feels so forced. It doesn’t have the simplicity that kissing should have.

He wonders if it’s always been simple, or if he’d just convinced himself that it was because for a while, the only lips he was kissing were yours.

He ignores the feeling in his chest as she moves to straddle his hips, her body over his. He leans back in the sand, his back against the ground as her lips follow his. She’s got this sort of hunger inside her, and Luke is somewhat scared.

Her fingers reach down to the zipper on his jeans, her long nails fumbling with the button.

“Wait, wait,” Luke says, pushing her off of him. “I can’t do this.”

“What?” She mumbles, still focused on the task at hand; getting his pants off.

He pulls her hands away from his crotch, despite how much he wants this. How much he wants to be able to have one night stands with girls who’s names he doesn’t know, but fuck. He can’t do it. He can’t fucking do it.

“I can’t do this. We-- we shouldn’t be doing this,” he squeezes his eyes shut.

“What?” She says, only instead of it coming out like a question, it sounds like she’s blaming him for something. “Do you have a girlfriend or something?”

He winces. “No. I did, though, and I just...”

“You’re still in love with her?” The girl asks, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She snorts, leaning down so that her mouth is right above his crotch, looking up at him with blinking eyes. “I can make you forget about her, if you want.”

“No,” He groans, sitting up again. “I’m probably gonna regret this, but I can’t have sex with you. Listen, you’re gorgeous, and some guy is gonna come around and do you well and nice, but I can’t do this. Not to her.”

The girl sighs, sitting back so that she’s facing him.

“Fine, whatever.”

“Hey, my friend Calum is looking for a hookup, if you want,” Luke says, shrugging his shoulders, standing up and dusting the sand off of his jeans, buttoning them back up. “You’re a really nice girl.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Listen, Luke, don’t waste this. If we aren’t gonna do anything, go get your girl.”

Luke grins at her, leaning over and giving her a kiss on the cheek, thanking her. His legs carry him across the strip of beach, into the hotel, past the lobby and out onto the street. He realizes that there aren’t going to be many taxis driving by at this hour, much less in this remote little sea-town.

Going up to the valet and asking him for the keys to Ashton’s car isn’t the smartest of ideas, but what Ashton doesn’t know won’t kill him.

*

“Y/N!” Luke yells, banging against the door. It’s weird to be in this part of town again, since he hasn’t had a reason to go there since you two broke up.

He bangs harder against the door, yelling your name again in his half-drunk, half-sober state. His head is killing him, and he thinks that there really isn’t anything worse than being awake while sobering.

He sees a light flicker by the window in front of the door of your duplex, sees a body roaming around through the barely lit entry way, and hears the click of a lock as the door swings open.

What stands in front of him is not something he’s expecting.

The guy stands shirtless in front of Luke, and Luke briefly wonders why the fuck he didn’t let that girl suck his dick when you’ve obviously been getting his side of the bed warm.

The guy leans against the doorway, and Luke isn’t a violent person, okay. But seriously, all he wants to do is punch him and his cocky fucking face. God, he looks like such an asshole. He probably is an asshole, Luke convinces himself.

“Y/N,” The guy calls back into the hallway, eyes still locked on Luke. “You’ve got a visitor.”

Even his voice is dripping with confidence, and, okay. Luke gets it. He’s attractive and confident and has a really toned body that Luke never had and obviously you can do whatever you want, and Luke just feels like such an idiot for coming all the way here and God, Ashton is gonna kill him for stealing his car.

The pitter pattering of footsteps across the carpeted floors No, Luke, we are not getting hardwood floors because my feet get cold. I don’t care! You’re a heater anyway and he swears that he can feel his heart in his throat.

“Luke?” You question, and something about hearing your voice after six months really hurts him and he doesn’t understand but at the same time he does because you were such a huge part of his life and he’s so fucking sorry that he messed everything up.

“H-hey,” He chokes out. “I-I’m gonna g-go.”

“Luke,” You reach out to him, fingers holding onto his wrist. And there it is; that little shock of electricity that he knew would be there because he’s never really stopped loving you. How could he?

You turn to the shirtless guy, whispering that you need a minute, and Luke just feels like shit, honestly.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be here. I don’t know why I’m here, I just--” He looks up at the sky, where the stars are shining brightly against the dark canvas of the atmosphere.

“Do you want to come inside?” You question softly.

He nods, feeling his throat clog up. “You know I do. I just... don’t know if that’s such a good idea. Your boyfriend might get mad.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” You state. Luke raises a brow in question.

“He’s not?”

“No, he’s a colleague that needed a place to crash because his girlfriend of four years just broke up with him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

Luke feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment due to how jealous he had sounded before.

You move aside from the threshold, and Luke steps inside, shrugging his tux jacket off of his shoulders, holding it in his arms

“Do you want something to drink? Tea, water?”

“Coffee?” He questions.

“Herbal tea it is,” You nod at him, with an eyebrow raised, and he grins at you. He knew that you hated when he drank coffee late at night, due to the fact that he either wouldn’t fall asleep at all or would spend the night tossing and turning.

He watches you walk out of the room with small steps, and he breathes out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding in.

When you come back a few minutes later, the smell of peppermint following you, he looks up at you with doe eyes as you sit across from him.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” You question, handing him a mug with the words time for a coffee break and a drawing of a stickman next to it with a to-do list next to them. He takes a sip before answering.

“Probably too much, but I’m not drunk anymore,” He answers.

You raise a brow at him, unbelieving.

“I’m not saying things twice, see?” He says, trying to prove himself to you.

You sigh, leaning back into the plush beige couch.

“Why are you dressed all fancy?” You say after a beat of silence passes, the awkwardness creeping through the cracks of your conversation.

“It was, um,” He coughs. “It was Michael’s wedding today. I was the best man.”

You nod, wincing. “Yeah, I was invited to that.”

“You should have come,” Luke spits out, blushing at how fast it had come out. This feels so foreign; not knowing what to say. It’s always been natural between the two of you, and to have this weight on both of your shoulders feels so fucking weird.

You shake your head. “No, it’s probably best I didn’t go,” You cough.

He nods, and he can’t help but think that he’s always the best man, never the groom. He wonders if you’re thinking about the same thing that he’s thinking about.

“Listen, I don’t want things to be awkward between us--”

“What are you doing here, Luke?” You question exasperatedly. “We broke up six months ago.”

“I don’t know--”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Luke. Why are you here?”

“Because, I can’t stand being at a wedding and it not being us!” He lets out, his anger coming out. He’s been holding it in for six months, and it’s just bubbling over now. “Because I fucking asked you to marry me and you said no!”

“You can’t blame me for that!” You stand up, and he does too, moving around the coffee table and pacing in front of you.

“I was gonna hook up with someone tonight,” He says, and he sees you wince but he ignores it because he’s just so fucking mad. “I was gonna take her up to my hotel room and fuck her as hard as I could. But you know why I didn’t?” He says, not even pausing to let you answer. “Because she wasn’t you! Because all night I’ve been thinking about us and how we were and how fucking great we were and how I’m still in love with you but you’re not in love with me and I just kept thinking about you in a white dress and how beautiful you’d look but it won’t be like that and it might never fucking be like that!”

He breaths out like the hulk coming back down from his green-monster rage, and he swears that he’s seeing red. He watches you carefully as you stare at him.

“Luke,” You say after a minute. “You can’t blame me for saying no to marrying you.”

“We dated for four years,” He says, still kind of mad but also kind of pitying himself.

“I wasn’t ready to get married,” You say.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head at him, taking a step towards him, pressing your hands to his torso and feeling the planes of his chest rise and fall in time with his breathing. “Don’t be sorry.”

His head falls back and he laughs dryly, tears falling down his cheeks. “I convinced myself for a month that you were gonna say yes. I think I thought about it a little bit too much.”

You reach your fingers around his neck, feeling the hair at the nape of his neck. You push his head forward to look at you, your thumbs running over his cheeks to wipe away the tears that fall there. You can feel a few tears fall down your own cheeks, but you ignore them.

“I love you, Luke. I always will,” You press a gentle kiss to his lips, feeling the electricity run through your body.

“Don’t leave it like this,” Luke says against your lips, leaning his forehead against yours. “Don’t leave me again.”

You press a kiss to his lips, not responding to his statement. “Too long since I’ve kissed you. I love you, I miss this.”

He closes his eyes. “You aren’t just saying that so that I don’t feel like an idiot, right?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m not. I think... I think it might be best if we start this again, yeah? Can we, um, can we give us another try?”

He nods. “I’d love that. I love you. I just... kiss me, please.”

And you do. You press your lips to his and he pushes you back into the wall, a few picture frames moving as you slam against it. 

“I missed this, Luke,” You moan into his mouth, your breath mingling into his.

He whimpers against you, your moan going straight to his core. “I love hearing you like that. Love hearing you say my name.”

“Hmm,” You moan again, his lips trailing down to your neck. “Luke.”

“Your skin is so soft, so nice.”

“I fucking missed this so much, oh my God,” You say as his fingers tug at your hair.

And if you end up being caught by your colleague the next morning with sex hair and a lazy smile on your face,

well.

LMAO I HATE THIS SO MUCH GIUFHBIFRUGH TELL ME IFU LIKE IT

[pillowtalkmichael]

just something I wrote for @tragicash and @hemmocrat’s breakup!5sos blurb night - which I now feel like is too long for a blurb (oh my god is that even okay??) so you have my deepest apologies because I literally cannot stop talking. Back on topic, I hope this is alright it’s just what came to me when I thought along the lines of like ~post break-up~. Okay I’m gonna shut up now 

Luke sat with his head in his hands, the lack of comfort the wooden seat he had chosen provided being the furthest thing from his mind. He wasn’t alone in his suffering, he was flanked by 3 other guys he knew for a fact were all experiencing the same pounding head, waves of nausea and intense regret at ordering that last bottle of whisky as he was. For them, it was possible to cling to the fact that the stag do was everything they’d hoped it would be for their friend and the pain they were all in would be worth it once the symptoms subsided. But he didn’t have that luxury. The buzzing pain caused by too many downed drinks didn’t compare in the slightest to the burning ache that had consumed his entirety for exactly 10 days now.

10 days since he’d thrown words at you he’d never have dreamed of even whispering to you in the past, you defending yourself by doing the exact same and spitting words he’d never imagined you saying to him even in the worst of nightmares. 9 days, technically given that it was 3 am, since you’d lost all patience and packed your bags, thrown your key to the apartment you both shared at him and slammed the door. 8 days since he’d woken up with one side of his face numb from sleeping with his head rested on the kitchen table, back aching from a less than peaceful slumber in one of the chairs in your dining room - but he knew it all hurt far less than it would have sleeping in the bed you’d picked on sheets that smelled like you yet missing that exact component. Only 2 days since he’d sent you that last message and left you a final voicemail after almost a week of desperately trying to contact you, apologising for everything and anything he could ever have done to you, for anything he would do in the future although he vowed to you through waves of uncharacteristic tears that if you even gave him the time of day he’d never mess up again, he’d bet every penny he had on it.

It had been no use though, he’d been met with nothing but a cold grey wall of silence, struggling with the concept that you stood somewhere behind it. Torturing himself at every hour of the day that you could be hiding behind it, from him, a broken shell of a person much like he was, and there was nothing he could do to make it all better. There was no joke he could tell to get you to crack a smile this time. He could buy up the entire planet’s supply of your favourite flower, invest every penny he had in ensuring any future ones would be yours - and he would too if it was what you wanted - but it wasn’t going to bring you back to him. He knew it from the look in your eye that night, the familiar glint of hope vacant from them, extinguished completely - he assumed - by him.

He refused to believe that your relationship had taken its course and reached the finish line as if it was some petty sprint, or a stage of a relay race. For him, you were a marathon. For him, you were it. For ever and always.

But that didn’t stop him from physically wincing when the wooden doors swung open and he heard your laugh floating above every other chuckle, the creak of the floorboards and the groans of his companions. In that moment, he reckoned the world could quite literally be falling apart and he’d still be able to hear the joyful melody over it all. For the first time in his life he was wracked with nerves because of you, denying himself to opportunity to lay his eyes upon you for the first time in forever purely because he was terrified of how you’d be looking back at him. The look of hatred and heartbreak on your face when you’d left was etched into his mind for all of time, he was sure of that.

There was no time for a cliche stare down across the flower strewn room, which in a way was good because he doubted that his shattered heart being scattered across the floor at just the mere sight of you would go with the bride’s colour scheme. The wedding planner eagerly clapped her hands - causing each and every groomsman to flinch and groan - and instructed everyone to get into place. Emotions and fragile hearts be damned there was a wedding taking place, his best friend was waiting nervously at the end of the aisle just through the double doors and you all had a job to do.

This had been arranged months ago. Given that the happy couple were both your respective best friends, it was no surprise that you were both asked to be part of the wedding. It had also been arranged at a time when you were both on good terms - excellent terms, even - and so when ordering who was with who there was no question about putting you two together.

However, it was a different time. Neither of you had been thinking about this day when you’d broken up. Never considered how potentially painful it could be. He knew it would be for him, he was going to be so close to you and acting so normal when he knew the truth couldn’t be further from it. Part of him hoped that you felt the same but a larger part of him was taunting him with sneers that it would only be painful for you because you had to be near him.

Either way, the time had come and there was nothing either of you could - or wanted, it was your best friends wedding, you weren’t going to disrupt it - do about it. Being the last ones to enter in before the bride herself, he watched you fall into line behind the other couples, not turning your head toward him in the slightest as you adjusted your bouquet. Taking a deep breath he took his place next to you, clearing his throat to get your attention.

You looked up at him expectantly, not knowing what to say yourself so selfishly leaving it down to him. He was in similar circumstances, at a loss of words as his eyes stayed glued to you, revelling in the luxury of just being able to see you. Not only see you, but see you looking as radiantly beautiful as you did right then. He knew you were gorgeous, of course he did he’d spent two years of his life worshipping you, but you looked extra special today. The dress fitting you like it was made especially for you, your make up just enough to accentuate your features without losing them completely. Although it may be rude to say on her big day, in his eyes you far outshone the bride.

In the time since he’d seen you last he’d come up with a million and one thing’s he’d say to you if he ever got the chance again, rehearsing each one over and over til he was sure it would be the perfect thing to say. Until his over active mind came up with something it deemed far more suitable and so on. But now that you were actually close enough for him to talk to, his mind was blank. Nothing but a blinding white wash of missing you covering it.

“You’ve got a–” he began timidly, hand raising to point at a thin wisp of hair that had escaped from your polished up-do. “Can I fix it?” He asked politely, eyes round and glazed with anxiety.

“Oh, right. Yeah, please do.” You muttered, no strength in you for your voice to be any louder. He nodded eagerly, even just your simple approval for him to do something as remedial as fix your hair filling him with warm joy. His fingers were trembling as he moved to fix it, touch so gentle you were barely even aware of it as he carefully removed a hair pin, placing the piece of hair where it looked like it should be. You kept painfully still, telling yourself it was so he could do the task at hand but in reality you knew it was to stop yourself falling under the calming spell of his soft touch.

“There you go, perfect.” A small, proud smile appeared on his face, eyes moving slowly from admiring his work to back your face. “Just like the rest of you.” He continued, quiet enough that no one else would hear but you. He frowned as he heard the words leave him, it was what he was thinking but the way he had absentmindedly phrased it made his cheeks heat slightly. “That’s not what I meant.” he coughed awkwardly, bewildered by feeling so out of sorts around the one person that usually made him feel on top of the world. “I mean, you look lovely.” He smiled curtly, far more satisfied with that arrangement of words.

The cold exterior you’d been fronting thawed slightly, seeing no issue with being civil since he seemed to be doing the same. “Thank you.” You smiled genuinely. “You don’t look too shabby yourself.” Nodding your head you knew you genuinely meant the words but you couldn’t help but notice how uncomfortable they felt on your tongue.

As soon as it had begun, the moment was over as the bride’s entry music began to play. Both of your head’s turned to see where the doors had been pried open, expectant eyes peering towards you all hoping to catch the first glance of the bridal party. He held his arm out as practiced, you slipping yours through it as you awaited your turn to walk down the carpeted aisle.

Forced smiles were on each of your faces, knowing that you had to put aside whatever shit was going on with you both long enough for everyone to get happy photos. He did his best to look presentable, admiring the way you smiled and winked at those that you knew, only being able to do so by doing the complete opposite, his eyes glued to you the entire time. He observed how the gentle candle light danced across your skin, the soft glow of pride and happiness for your best friend warming your complexion. He also knew that it was going to make for some odd looking photos and that his shameless adoration of you would be caught second for second on the happy couple’s wedding video, but he couldn’t care less. For you, it was worth it.

All too soon you were breaking apart, moving to stand on your respective sides of the aisle. All too soon the feeling of your soft skin under his yearning touch was replaced by the sweaty palm of his clearly nervous best friend as they exchanged a firm handshake.

Throughout the ceremony he did his best to focus on the touching vows, to laugh at all the appropriate places, to truly appreciate the beauty of two of his favourite people uniting in a bond of love for the rest of their days. Because that’s what you were doing, your eyes alight with that hopeless romantic side of you that he knew all too well you liked to hide. The official that was leading the ceremony was the only thing that stood in the way of him leaping across the aisle to wipe away your tears half way through, fully in the knowledge that they were from a place of happiness but not liking the way they stained your skin all the same. He was aware that today was about his best friends, aware that you were no longer his to fantasize about a life with. But that didn’t stop his mind replaying the same thing over and over. That should be you and him

He wanted to be the one shaking and clammy as he tried desperately to say his vows. He wanted to be the one winking and making faces at you throughout the boring bits. He wanted to be the one to dip you in a ridiculously dramatic fashion when you were announced as officially wed and instructed to kiss. More than anything he wanted to be walking down the aisle with you arm in arm much you like were doing right then, but he wanted to be doing it as newlyweds with his surname now replacing yours. Not as exes floating somewhere in the no man’s land between lovers and strangers.

You were out of his grasp as soon as you were both outside, telling himself you had departed from his hold so quickly to be the first to throw confetti over your friend, knowing that was something you would do. What he didn’t expect was for you to be whisked away from him straight away as the photographer called for all the bridesmaids to gather to the left of the bride, him feeling like he was miles from you as the groomsmen gathered to the right.

He watched on in awe as your smile lit up every picture that was snapped, your laugh so lively and full of giddy happiness he knew that years from now when he came across the photos from today it would ring through his ears clear as day even then. Although he hoped with everything in him that he’d have you by his side to recreate the wonderful sound when he showed you it, in the middle of the toy littered living room in the family home he saw you both sharing in the future.

“And now can we have the individual couples from the bridal party? You. You first.” The photographer demanded, pulling him from his daydream with a pointed flick of his index finger in his direction and a sharp stab to his chest with the word couple, unaware of how much that word carried for you both. You were already up there, detaching yourself from where you’d been perched on the back of the bride. Drawing his lips into his mouth he strolled over to where you stood, the stunning backdrop of the estate’s luscious garden falling behind you both. The serenity of the beautiful surroundings a stark contrast to the chaos ensuing in each of your head’s, gearing up to look as happy as possible for the sake of your friends, once again.

Fixing his tie, he stood next to you, offering just an apprehensive smile and a polite nod of his head as the man in charge looked around for a new battery for his camera. “How’s my hair this time?” You smirked, referring to your previous interaction. He fought the huge smile that threatened to engulf his face due to the fact that you had initiated the conversation. “Gorgeous.” He stated simply, allowing himself a smile to match. You felt your cheeks round at his kind words, the tone so gentle and genuine it made whatever was left of your fragile heart shatter instantly.

“Closer, please! Goodness, she doesn’t bite, go on arm around the waist!” The photographer called after just one click of the shutter. The picture had come out looking like a couple of young children getting their first ever picture at school, rigid frames and a respectable distance between you both. Eyes flitting around the scene nervously you both shuffled closer, you leaning in closer to him as his arm smoothed along the soft material of the dress that covered your back. A few more clicks followed, each one making it harder to keep the smile on your face. The wedding party that looked on as you both had your turn was anything but sly, their faces drenched in pity and sympathy as they knew all too well how foreign this was now, remembering what you both used to have. “Smiles!” The man called, hands gesturing wildly. “It’s a wedding, you look gorgeous!” He called to you before turning to Luke, “she’s stunning, you’re a lucky man to be in the same picture, show a little happiness!”. He swallowed thickly, loud enough for you to hear no doubt. He knew just how lucky he was to be in a picture with you because he knew how lucky he was - had been - to have loved you and have you love him.

Regaining his composure quickly, he threw caution to the wind and took a risk. His hands that had settled on the soft curve of your hips twitched, his fingers tickling your sides ever so slightly. He knew how ticklish you were, not needing a heavier touch to evoke the giggle from you he had been aiming for, soon joining you in laughter as you squirmed slightly with a shrill squeak of his name. It was enough to set you - and the entire audience - off, every photo following filled with wide smiles and candid shots of you both laughing.

“Had to be done” he shrugged mischievously as you moved to allow for the next pair, to which he received a blow to the chest with your bouquet. About half an hour passed, the ice between you not exactly broken but the unlimited glasses of champagne being handed to you both and his move during the pictures had broken a hole big enough to allow pleasant conversation to drift between you both as you waited for everyone else to finish.

From there it was on to the dining part of the reception, you both taking your seats at the top table. A mix up in the seating arrangements had meant that there was someone sitting in between you both, effectively creating what he saw to be a stone wall not only in the way of conversation but in the way of his master plan to have you warm up to him again. In a way though, he decided it may be a good thing. He was walking a mine field every time he opened his mouth to you, terrified of saying the wrong thing and have it all blow up in his face. Plus, he reckoned it would give you a break from having him pine over you like some lovesick puppy.

Being just a groomsman and not the actual best man he had escaped the duty of giving a speech, extremely thankful for it too as he listened to the the one the best man gave, sure he couldn’t have done anything half as good. Looking out to the table of guests he noted how every other person was dabbing at their watery eyes, prompting him to turn his head away from the man of the moment to check on you. As suspected you were fanning at your face, most likely worried about your make up running. Smiling fondly, he looked down to grab the hankerchief that had came as a pocket square in his suit to offer it to you. In the few moments it had taken him to do this, the other groomsman who had the pleasure of sitting right next to you had reached over to place his hand over yours, Luke’s eagle eyes not missing the way he squeezed your hand in what he knew was nothing but a reassuring gesture. But that didn’t stop an uncomfortable spark of jealousy from igniting within him. Still, he reached behind the stone wall sitting between you both to offer you the cloth, feeling far more comfortable as you removed your hand from under the other guy’s to take it, shooting him a bright smile of gratitude.

It was a decision he came to regret as his best friend made his toast to his new wife. It was a tear-jerker at best, an endless list of the things he adored about his significant other with a generous helping of everything he looked forward to in their now united future thrown in there too for good measure. The end result though, presented itself as Luke struggling to hold back the tears himself as every syllable spoken by the groom felt like a blow to his gut, knowing with whatever was left of his heart that all he wanted to do was be able to shower you with affection like that. That everything he was saying, he had thought about you at one point and then some. That he had to have you back because he knew he’d never be able to toast any other girl as his wife.

There wasn’t much that could be done while eating given the seating plan, but he did make sure to bring you back a drink from the bar when he’d went up in between courses, knowing you weren’t the biggest fan of white or red wine - the only options on the table beside water - revelling in the surprised yet appreciative grin on your face as he placed it silently in front of you, not wanting to disturb your conversation.

As he tucked into the dessert his mind was like a livewire, buzzing with the possibility that things were going to be okay. You’d had time apart to figure out where you both stood, it had only confirmed to him how hopelessly in love he was and he hoped he wasn’t mistaking the civil interactions between you both today as green lights for a reconciliation. As the dishes were cleared away and the dining room transformed into a room fit for the party that was about to begin, arrangements being made for the band to play the newlyweds’ song, he decided there was no better chance to go for it than during the first dance.

You’d been across the other side of the dance floor, one of the teeny tiny toddler pageboys in your arms as you swayed with him to the music, Luke’s eyes on you yet again as he silently willed the slow song to speed up so he could get his turn. Eventually it did, you placing a kiss to the little boy’s cheek before handing him back to his mother as the bridal party was called to the dancefloor to be the first to join the new couple, eyes searching the dimly lit space to find your partner. But you didn’t have to look far, he was already just a few steps from you, hand outstretched toward you. The low light masked your face, although he liked to think it had a smile that matched his on it as you complied and took his hand, allowing him to whisk you gently onto the floor.

Although strange due to the time spent apart, he couldn’t deny how the feeling of having you against him, hand on the small of your back and your raised hands clasped together, made his heart speed up rapidly. This was where he wanted to be for the rest of his life. You both swayed around the floor for some time, a silence he assumed to be comfortable cloaking your slow moving figures. “Crazy day, huh?” He muttered, wary of being quiet so as not to disrupt the others on the dance floor.

You nodded, a smile now definitely covering your face as relief washed over you at how well you were both managing to behave, that communication seemed to be no issue. It was going to make what you had debated saying a lot easier.

He too was celebrating how well you had both been getting on, he knew it was far from what you had but it felt like a step in the right direction. Similarly giving him the confidence to put it all on the line and ask for another chance.

But you beat him to it.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” You asked hesitantly, face unreadable. His eyes almost bulged out of his head, heart leaping into his throat. Flailing to get it together he blinked rapidly, clearing his throat so as to answer with as much confidence as he could, there being no question about his answer. He could have had a fully booked day, he didn’t, but it would all have been cleared for you. “Nothing, absolutely nothing.” He spoke in a breath, head shaking feverishly as images of a well overdue, passionate reunion clouding his mind, feeling as if he had woken up from a very long, restless nap at the prospect of having you in his arms again.

“Cool, great. I could come round around lunchtime to get my stuff then?”

All the air was knocked from his lungs. His blood running cold. The entire room seeming to move in slow motion as you delivered a blow harder than any heavyweight champion could dream of.

You didn’t want him back. You wanted your stuff back.

He didn’t have time to even begin to come up with a response as the mood in the room shifted with the end of the first dance song, an upbeat fast paced song that he knew was heavily associated with the groomsmen and their night outs began to play. A hand belonging to one of his friends dragging him away from where he stood dazed in front of you, almost thankful for it because he hadn’t seen himself being able to move from there for a good while.

You, still under the illusion that he was as approving of your split as you were, merely laughed it off as you watched him go before setting off in search for any familiar faces you hadn’t had the chance to greet.

As soon as the song was over, as soon as he stopped pretending to be as wildly into it as his friends, as soon as he was no longer on the shoulders of the groom he was off in search of you. His eyes scanned the room desperately, not wanting to lose another second of time he planned on using to beg you to reconsider what he was sure you had said. He soon found you, emerging from the bathroom with bride, trailing behind her as you fussed with the long train of her dress. In just a few long strides he reached you, tugging you gently yet forcefully to a secluded corner behind one of the pillars.

“Jesus, you scared me!” You wheezed when you saw it was him, hand raising to clutch at your heaving chest. He almost laughed at the irony of your words given that at that current moment he was terrified by what you’d said, of you truly leaving him. “You want your stuff?” He questioned weakly.

“Yeah, I think it’s about time. I mean, I have the new place now and–l” you spoke so nonchalantly it made him wonder if this was actually some horrifically detailed nightmare his heartbroken mind had come up with to torture him. But he knew better than that, even though it hurt like hell. “New place?” He choked, hand flying out to rest upon the wall, fearing that the world was crumbling below his feet. “No, you can’t– I thought–” he stuttered eyes screwing shut in an attempt to soothe the burning pinch that was tickling the back of them, mind in overdrive and struggling to string words together. “I thought we were good?”

You frowned lightly, not sure of what he meant. “We are good.” You nodded, you wouldn’t have suggested coming for your things if you thought you both wouldn’t have been able to handle it. “No” he almost whined, “I thought we were good.” He strained, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray him like his body had, working to at least retain some of his dignity. Your shoulders dropped as he finally made you understand, mouth going dry at just how severely the signals had been mixed up.

“Luke,” you began, voice soft and sympathetic. “We’re not getting back together.” It felt awful to say it, but it felt even worse to be hearing it - he could vouch for that. “But, we’re–. You're my--” his mouth was open and poised as if he were ready to talk but once again, words failed him. “I love you” he pleaded, there was nothing else he could say that would carry his feelings as truly as those, so he saw no sense in complicating things.

You pursed your lips, cautious of what to say next. You didn’t want to pity him, but you also knew that lying to him would do no good either. “And I love you too, I’m just not in love with you anymore.” Shaking your head ever so slightly, your heart broke even more as his emotions played clear as day on the features of his face at your cliche line. “I’m sorry.” You shrugged, feeling like it was the right thing to say.

It was not.

“Don’t apologise, for fuck sake.” He muttered, shaking his head before allowing it to fall back, eyes closing as he tried his best to deal with this. It was bad enough that he was being dumped for the second time by the one person on earth that held his heart in her manicured little hands only to have her toss it away, but having that very same person treat him as a charity case was where he drew the line.

It became evident that you were in high demand tonight, various calls of your name floating above the music. Turning to poke your head out from behind the pillar you spotted the bridesmaids waving you over to where a large group of girls stood, the bride preparing to throw her bouquet. Turning back you looked at him, practically seeking permission to go.

“You should go. Just go.“ He nodded towards the commotion, voice flat and deflated now. He had no fight left in him. Even if he did have, he'd have pushed it to the side. To someone who knew you as well as he did it was clear to see that your mind was made up. And he knew all too well that pretty much meant that the fact that your relationship was over was well and truly set in stone. You were already gone. "I’ll have your stuff ready for tomorrow afternoon.” He sighed, feeling his stomach churn uncomfortably. Not knowing what to say you allowed yourself to be dragged off by one of the bride’s aunts, leaving him with nothing but a fleeting glance and making it to the centre of the room just in time with the bride tossing her bouquet.

He didn’t stick around to see if you caught it, there was no point. He’d never be the one nervous and jittery at the altar as he awaited your grand entrance. Today had been the only chance he’d had to walk down an aisle with you. Never would he get the chance to even try and compose a speech that attempted to do you any justice as his new wife. And the first dance you’d both participated in tonight, had proved to be your last together.

All of this remained the same whether that bunch of flowers fell into your hands or the hands of another.

Besides, he had an entire love story to pack up in time for you coming the following day.

[hemmmosphere-blog]

being 8 months pregnant with calums child would be a mixture of a blessing and a curse. of course you’d be over the moon about having a baby with the love of your life, but at this point you’d just be so over the whole ‘being pregnant’ thing. your stomach would be almost comically huge and your feet, ankles, breasts, back, neck and to be honest your whole body would be in near constant ache and pain. and with all your hormones being spiked it wouldn’t take much for you to either get overly excited about finding leftover pizza in the fridge that calum did not get to before you, or for you to start crying in the middle of the store because calum found the most adorable tiny little socks for your baby girl. and if calum had to be honest, he would be surprised if he were to come home to a wife who wasn’t crying, because it really wouldn’t take much before your eyes would start watering. he had to admit though that in the beginning when your hormones started to change, he was a bit clueless as what to do. your favorite part about the whole pregnancy though, is the change you’d see in calum from the moment you’d tell him you’re pregnant. if you didn’t feel like he treated you like a queen before, you’d definitely feel it now. his daily mission would change from going into the studio and writing the best songs he possibly could, to making sure you were as comfortable and safe as possible. not that he didn’t write songs anymore, now more than ever they’d just always turn up to be about you and your little bean. and if his day would end with you making him rub cream over your stomach, then he would not complain one bit, because as he’d call it, it was his daddy duty and his daddy-bean bonding time. and this, yes this would usually be when you’d cry the most.

[hrina]

The steady beeping of the heart monitor woke you from your hasty and uncomfortable sleep. The moment your eyes snapped open, you sat up, glancing around and wondering if the past few hours had been only a dream–twisted, yes, yet so vivid.

But no, here you were, sitting on a rock-hard chair in a hospital room, your heavy winter coat draped over your body as a blanket. Your tuque was still covering your head, the floor messy and wet thanks to your black boots. And there was Calum, lying on the hospital bed, his eyes closed and his left leg suspended in the air, golden skin shielded from view by a white cast.

Your stomach churned with guilt as you remembered the event that had occurred only a couple hours ago. It had been his first attempt at skiing–he’d done a pretty decent job on his first run down the hill–and you’d both been fucking around on the lift bringing you back to the top.

Moments later, you were screaming, and Calum was sprawled out on the white snow thirty feet below.

You winced at the memory, fresh and prominent in your head. Though it had been declared an accident, you couldn’t help but to feel like you were to blame. If you hadn’t made that one teasing remark, you would both be laughing at the ski lodge right now, enjoying a cup of hot chocolate and engaging in your usual banter. Instead you were here, with tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes that were trained on your best friend.

You had only been watching him for a few moments before you saw his plump lips curl into a smile. “It’s rude to stare,” he mused lightly, his eyes remaining closed.

Your eyes widened slightly, but you quickly shook your head, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the idiot resting only a few feet away.

“Shut up,” you murmured gently, pulling off your jacket and hat, standing and walking over to the bed. Calum let out a faint chuckle and finally opened his eyes, the cocoa irises lighting up as he watched you lower yourself to your knees next to him. You gazed at him tenderly and subconsciously reached forward, your fingers brushing some curls away from his forehead.

He smiled at you, closing his eyes as you continued to run your fingers through his hair. You let out a soft sigh, placing your elbow on the bed and leaning your head against your palm, the both of you sitting in silence for a few seconds. 

Calum finally broke it. “Where’s my mum?” he rasped. You bit on your bottom lip gently, your fingers halting their soothing movements in his curls, “I think she went down to the cafeteria to eat. Mali’s with her.”

Your friend nodded at your words, his hand coming up to his head, resting on yours and indicating that he wanted you to continue your previous actions. This drew a quiet chuckle from your lips, and Calum’s eyelids fluttered as he looked up at you. 

“You didn’t go?” he questioned curiously. Not trusting your voice, you merely shook your head, swallowing heavily. Calum’s lips curved down into a slight frown.

“Why have you been crying?” he whispered, his voice hoarse and gravelly. The simple question caused tears to rush to your eyes for what had felt like the millionth time that day, and you inhaled sharply through your nose. You leaned back, putting distance between yourself and the edge of his bed, and pinched the bridge of your nose to keep yourself from falling apart.

“Hey,” Calum’s reaction was immediate. He placed his palms flat against the mattress and pushed himself up, his biceps straining with the effort. You weren’t even able to tease him about the absurd hospital gown adorning his body, too caught up in controlling your emotions to care.

“Y/N–fuck,” you best friend muttered as he winced in pain. After a slight struggle, he had successfully managed to prop himself up, his back pressed against the plush pillows. He looked at you sadly, being able to sense the turmoil raging inside of you, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was,” you whispered, cursing under your breath. You tried to blink the tears away, breathing out slowly and looking upwards, hoping that the water in your eyes would subside. Once you finally felt calm again, you cleared your throat, looking at Calum, “It was, Cal. You’re not supposed to fuck around on the lift, and yet…I should’ve known better, I’m the one who’s skied before. I-I’m supposed to know the rules.”

“It was me, too,” Calum insisted, but you shook your head. You leaned forward, assuming your previous position and closing your eyes. It was Calum’s turn to reach out, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“I’m supposed to be consoling you,” you laughed without humor, the sound hollow. Calum’s lips kinked up into a small smile, and he ran his fingertips along your cheek, arriving at your chin and tilting your face up to look at him. You opened your eyes, confused by his actions.

His face was right near yours, and you heard your breath hitch in your throat at the realization. He was looking at you with stern yet gentle eyes, his lips curved up into a slight smirk, “It wasn’t your fault, loser.”

You couldn’t even chuckle at the nickname. You shook your head, your brow furrowing, “Goddammit Cal, just let me feel guilty, will you? I don’t–”

Calum’s left hand suddenly tangled in your hair, and a moment later, his lips were pressed against yours. Your words died on the tip of your tongue, sputtering like a flame against a cold rush of wind. Nevertheless, you found your mouth moving in harmony with his, a low groan resonating in his throat. He pulled back a few long seconds later, pressing his forehead to yours whilst you both fought for air.

“Not your fault,” your friend breathed, his chest rising and falling deeply, matching the movements of your own, “Okay?”

“I–okay,” your shoulders slumped in defeat as you gazed up at him in awe, unable to fathom what had just happened.

“Good,” Calum grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling, “Because I really want to do that again.”

And with those words, he resealed his lips to yours.

winter!5sos blurb night with @drcpdead! send in/tag us in your blurbs!

[julyxvi]

inspired by this quote. even if you don’t take a look at that, i can’t even pretend that this is going to be happy and cute and fluffy because it’s not. there are allusions/references to a person that some may interpret as being that person luke’s been seen with, but, i mean, the other person mentioned in this could be anyone for the sake of fiction, not necessarily that one specific person. the mentions are brief and not even really detailed anyway. the most detail i go into besides the fact that they exist is by bringing up certain pictures, but again, it’s brief and not even really detailed. if you think any of these mentions might cause you to be upset -- or even if just angst makes you upset i suppose -- then i guess this is your warning to not continue

word count: 2878

"Fuck," you swore under your breath.

As soon as your gaze had accidentally landed on the one familiar blond head of hair that you'd hoped to never have to see again in person, you immediately you ducked your head and took immense interest in the alcoholic liquid that filled your glass, hoping that, unlike you, he hadn't spotted you too when he walked into the bar. Through your peripheral vision, you saw him make his way to a table towards the back.

"What?" your friend asked curiously. You didn't dare to look at her or to even speak -- fearing that he'd somehow hear your voice over not only just everyone else's chatter but also the music playing in the bar from where he sat -- so your lack of response left her to figure out the answer on her own. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see her looking around the room, searching for what could've caused your sudden distress. Her eyes must've eventually found your ex-boyfriend because moments later, she was knowingly saying, "Ah."

You heavily sighed, muttering afterwards, "Yeah."

Your glass was still filled nearly to the brim with alcohol, an amount that you decided was still far too much. That -- and not at all the fact that you were in the same room as someone you didn't want to see -- prompted you to down the rest of your drink in one gulp, the liquid going down as easily as water. Under typical circumstances, and maybe a more clear and less befuddled state of mind, you might've been concerned for yourself, but at the moment, you just didn't care, gently setting the glass back down on the counter once your drink was finished, not wanting to slam the glass and unnecessarily draw anyone else's attention.

"I'm going to the restroom," you informed your friend as you slid off the stool you'd been vacating at the front bar, ignoring her sympathetic and concerned expression.

A part of you wanted to walk with your head held high on your way to the restroom, if only to give the impression that you hadn't noticed him entering the bar and that if you had, you weren't affected, but your desire to remain unseen for as long as possible won out over your pride and you ultimately continued to keep your head down.

You hadn't really needed to go to the restroom, but you figured that locking yourself away in a restroom stall and going through the motions would be a decent way to hide out, if only for a few minutes. After flushing and resituating yourself, you took another moment to regroup, closing your eyes and ignoring the sounds of someone else's footsteps and their movements in the stall next to yours. Your head was spinning. You hadn't even had much to drink that night and despite how quickly you'd just polished off a drink, you knew the reason for your sudden dizziness wasn't because of your alcohol intake. You took a deep breath, slowly breathing out afterwards. You'd hoped that retreating to the restroom for a bit would help you feel better, but with the unwanted reminder of someone's existence in your head now, with your eyes closed, all you could see were past memories.

You should've anticipated seeing him. Deep down, you knew there was the possibility and that you should've taken that possibility into greater consideration when you and your friend were deciding where to grab drinks tonight, but you didn't want him to have any affect on your life, didn't want him affecting your choices down to a decision as trivial as where to get drinks. Still, you felt like you should've better mentally prepared. You'd heard that he was in town. Saw in your Twitter mentions the pictures of him arriving, sent to you by people who for some reason still held a grudge that you two had dated once upon a time. Known that he still frequented this bar even after you two broke up.

This bar was the one place that would serve you two alcohol underage. You two started coming here after hearing from the older sibling of a friend that this bar never asked or checked for ID. At an age where neither of you could legally drink -- and were still not yet old enough to do so -- not only was this ideal, but the fact that this bar was so lowkey (the exact definition of a hole in the wall dive bar, really) also made it all the more appealing. Fans and paparazzi alike would never expect to find him here, making it a perfect hangout. You weren't surprised that he'd shown up; you were just upset that he'd decided to show up while you were here, even if he had no way of knowing.

This bar was a fine establishment when he wasn't here, but when he was, all this bar brought back were memories you kept buried and tried to repress. Memories of you and him sitting together at a table with friends -- his hand on your thigh or your head on his shoulder, how even though you were surrounded by people it always felt like you two were in your own world still, the way his baby blues seemed even brighter while he was drunk, the perpetual smile on his face and crinkles by his eyes. A dry sob almost clawed its way out of your throat when even the fucking restroom brought back memories of the two of you -- of how you two would retreat here when lust and love took over, when one of you was down on your knees or when he'd have you against the stall door with a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

His presence here tonight was all the more upsetting from the fact that he had the audacity to bring his new…person, here with him tonight. You weren't naive; you knew that you had no say in his life or his choices and that you had no real claim -- no stake, no ownership -- over this bar, but you couldn't help but feel insulted that he'd bring his new person with him to the place you two had first visited together. Just the idea of him doing everything he'd done with you, with her, hurt you and the fact that you were affected by that, that you felt hurt, made you angry because he wasn't supposed to affect you and he wasn't supposed to upset you. Not anymore. You'd moved on from him and with your life, damn it.

The sound of the toilet flushing in the stall next to yours broke you out of your reverie and you suddenly felt the silent tears that had made their way down your face and left dried trails in their tracks. Carefully, you dabbed at your eyes and face with the back of your hand before taking another deep breath and then exiting the stall, hoping that when you looked in the mirror you didn't look as wrecked as you felt.

Your appearance became the least of your worries though when the other stall door opened and out walked your ex-boyfriend. A swear was on the tip of your tongue -- irritated that this bar was too cheap to build separate restrooms -- but you didn't think that you could even utter the curse word if you tried, finding yourself rendered speechless when your eyes landed on Luke.

Even though you'd seen pictures of him over the course of the past year -- thanks to social media -- and saw how he'd grown and changed, it'd been a little over a year since you'd actually seen him with your own two eyes. The last time you'd seen him, just before he left for the Oceanian leg of the tour his band was an opener for, he'd worn his hair in a quiff and was clean-shaven -- looking almost the epitome of the boy next door if it weren't for his lip ring and choice of attire. He still dressed the same for the most part, but he'd cut his hair shorter and styled it differently and the facial hair that he'd grown out framed his face in a way that made his bone structure sharper and more defined. Even his choice of shoe wear had changed, the black high top Converse you always remembered him wearing being swapped out for black boots instead.

You almost drank him in hungrily, almost as if he were a source of water and you'd been wandering the desert for days, almost in disbelief at who the person in front of you was. Sure, he was still Luke Hemmings, but the person in front of you was a man you didn't recognize. He was a man who looked nothing like the boy you'd fallen in love with. The boy who'd promised you that nothing -- not the distance or his fame that was increasing by the second -- would tear you two apart. The boy who tried and failed to keep his promise. The boy you were forced to let go of.

It was amazing how much could change in a year, how much someone could change in a year, and you fleetingly wondered if you looked any different to him too. If your own face was any sharper or more defined. If you looked taller. Or more mature.

Not allowing yourself to dwell on the thought -- because frankly, what you looked like to him didn't matter considering he had a new person now -- you simply and monotonously said, "Excuse me."

The small restroom space didn't allow for much room already, but when you added in his broad frame, you needed to literally squeeze by him to get to the sinks -- an action you didn't really want to have to take.

He only stared at you blankly at first, but even when you pointedly looked at the sinks, he still didn't get the hint to step aside.

"Really? That's all you have to say?" he asked.

"Excuse me, please?" you guessed as you crossed your arms, just a hint of irritation to your tone.

He rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant."

Still, he finally stepped aside, finally allowing you to walk by him and up to the sinks before deciding he'd do the same.

"I don't know what you want me to say," you exasperatedly admitted as you wet your hands and then heard -- more than saw -- him do the same. Tired of this exchange already, you wished he could've just let you be. "I have nothing to say to you."

He didn't seem to have a response to that, for which you were glad, and so you just brought your hands to the closest soap dispensary, ready to start lathering your hands with soap and then getting out of the restroom as soon as possible, only to find that there was no soap. You internally groaned, your eyes searching for another soap dispensary. Conveniently, there was another one…right by Luke. As if sensing your distress, he briefly glanced at you before looking back down at his own soap-covered hands.

Although you'd considered doing so for a nanosecond, not washing your hands with soap wasn't even an option for you, forcing you to reluctantly reach towards that other damned soap dispensary. All had gone well until your hands brushed against his as you were drawing back to your own side. Instantly, you jerked your hands as far away from his as possible, just mildly aware of the fact that you'd managed to sporadically splatter soap on the two of you in the process. You felt as if you'd been burned and you couldn't decide if you liked the idea of playing with fire or if it'd only leave you more charred.

Still in silence, the two of you finished washing your hands. Having finished before you, you could hear him start to dry off his hands, but even after he'd thrown away the paper towels, he hadn't made any move to leave the restroom. You could feel his eyes on you as you dried off your own hands and after finishing and throwing away your own used paper towels, your eyes reluctantly met his.

You almost wanted to laugh -- or maybe cry -- at the way that a year ago, the idea of not knowing what to say to Luke wasn't even fathomable to you. Sure, he'd taken your breath away and left you speechless plenty of times throughout the course of your relationship, but you'd never drawn a blank as to what to say to him, never felt like you had to grasp at straws for words to say to him like you were now.

In spite of that though, you still found yourself able to read him. The bags that were always present under his eyes -- no matter how much sleep he got -- were more pronounced than usual. His eyebrows were just the slightest bit furrowed, his nose just barely scrunched up. The downward turn of his lips almost imperceptible, the bit of lip ring sucked into his mouth almost unnoticeable.

"I'm not…with her, you know," he eventually said. "We're not…together."

You hated yourself for the flutter of hope that blossomed in your stomach at his words, knowing full well that you and him were long dead with no chance of ever being resurrected and coming back to life.

"Really?" you laughed, also hating that your one word came out sounding more bitter than you'd intended. "Because those pictures of you together, especially the ones of you two holding hands, seem to imply otherwise." He opened his mouth to respond, but you shook your head at him. "You don't have to lie to me because you think you're doing me a favor." Wryly, you smiled. "Don't you think you've lied to me enough already?"

"I didn't mean to--"

"I know you didn't mean to," you replied, cutting him off and feeling your frustration rise with every word you spoke, "but I told you not to make promises you couldn't keep and you went and did so anyway."

"I didn't mean to break my promise," he protested, the fire in his eyes making the blue hue seemingly brighter. "It wasn't as if I made that promise with the intention of breaking it."

"But you did," you said with finality. The fire remained in his eyes and even though he kept his mouth closed, you weren't sure how much longer he'd be contained. You sighed, feeling the fight leave your body. "You did and now you're with her and that's fine. You've moved on with your life obviously and I've moved on with mine too."

At your words, he seemed to deflate, the fire extinguishing from his eyes and the blue hue seeming duller now. "Did you really?" he asked, almost quietly. "Move on, I mean."

"What do you mean if I really moved on?"  you asked incredulously and a little indignantly. "Of course I moved on. What? Did you think that I was just going to pathetically wait around for you hoping that you'd one day come back to me?" You scoffed, crossing your arms across your chest. "Get over yourself, Luke."

"That's not what I meant when I asked that," he fired back, the flames in his eyes reigniting. "I meant--"

"Save it," you practically barked, interjecting before he could continue any further. Crossing your arms tighter across your chest, you spoke again. "You're always saying things you don't mean, aren't you?"

You remained rooted in your spot just long enough to see the expression on his face -- looking as if your words had been an actual physical blow, as if you'd just punched him right in the gut --  before finally making your way out of the restroom. Whether he was or not, you were done with the conversation. If he had anything else to say, you didn't want to hear any of it. You'd heard enough from him for a lifetime.

Your friend was where you'd left her, just on her phone while she nursed her drink and waited for your return.

"We need to leave," you told her as soon as she was in hearing distance. Already, you were fishing out the right amount of cash to pay your tabs, haphazardly leaving the money on the countertop and then waiting for her to get up to speed.

"What? Why?" she asked. One look at your face though and she seemed to understand your urgency. "Oh, okay, let's go then."

With haste, you two made your way out of the bar and you were thankful that you'd gotten to the bar early enough to have secured a prime parking spot. Being parked practically in front of the bar allowed you two to immediately enter your car and then drive off as soon as the car was started and you two were buckled in.

Your car was but a mere speck in the distance by the time Luke himself had made his way out of the bar.

[whyashton]

considering that you and calum had been dating for three years, you fell apart incredibly fast. what started as an argument over a dirty kitchen ended with both of you crying and him shouting as you left to never bother speaking to him again. needless to say, it was rather extreme and left both you and calum feeling empty for months – but that was nearly a year ago, and while it was difficult, you had started to move on.

lately, you had been going to the park to take walks and write, something you did to distract yourself. so you’d wake up one morning and go to the park, one headphone in with your journal in hand, oblivious to the world around you, especially oblivious to the happy yellow lab running towards you and the guy the dog was dragging behind it. you’d nearly be plowed over when the dog put its paws on your thigh and jumped up to try and lick your face, and when you heard someone mutter “sorry,” it was the last person you were expecting to see.

calum would be standing there, dropping the leash to the ground when you two finally made eye contact. “i, uh, guess she hasn’t forgotten you,” calum would say, frozen in place. “that makes two of us,” he’d quickly add before bending down to get the leash. “sorry for-“ “calum, wait,” you’d interrupt, placing a hand on his upper arm. he’d tense at the contact but immediately loosen up and turn to face you. “yeah?” “it’s just been, like, a year, and i, um. can we talk?” and calum would try not to smile as he stood back up and looked into your eyes again and he felt his heart soar because maybe, just maybe, he could have a part two to the best years of his life.

[qpollos]

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[cruelsummerbummer]

ashton + woc

[iammalumtrash-blog]

You didn't mean to grab it. The scarf had been in the back of your closet for months and brought back too many bittersweet memories, so you tried your best to avoid it, but you were late and it was cold and it matched your outfit in the dark so you threw it on, frowning when you got outside and realized what you were wearing.

You definitely didn't mean to be photographed in it, but your friends insisted on a picture at lunch and it ended all over social media which is how Mali-Koa Hood ended up commenting about how you still had her scarf and jokingly saying Calum should swing by to get it back.

You didn't mean for it to happen.

Nice scarf.

It was weird seeing his name light up your phone, and honestly you were surprised he still had your number.

Did Mali show you?

He unfollowed you from social media months ago, of course Mali showed him.

She's insisting I come get it.

Your heart pounded and your hands shook slightly.

Okay.

There was no time to panic, no time to change, so you sat there trying to breathe evenly as you waited for a knock on the door. It was tentative, but it finally came, and in the doorway stood Calum, with bright eyes and a soft smile. “Hey y/n. Long time, no see.”

“Here.” You held the scarf out for him to take, hoping he'd leave you in peace. This was the last remnant of his existence that you owned and needed it gone so you could keep telling yourself you were moving on.

He frowned, taking the ball of fabric and holding it to his chest. “No inviting me in then?”

Shrugging, you stepped back and opened the door a little wider, giving him access inside if he wanted it. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but stayed outside the threshold. “You could've brought this to me when you gave back my stuff, you know.”

You sighed and swallowed, “I know. But I kept it and I know it's stupid but I've been hoping maybe one day you'd come by to pick it up and we'd be forced to talk again because I haven't seen you in months and I'm maybe kinda sorta still in love with you.”

Out of the three awkward minutes he'd been standing there, you finally glanced up at him. His lips were parted, his eyebrows were arched like they always were when he listened to you, and that damn scarf was being wrung in his hands.

“Is that seriously why you've kept it all this time?” Calum’s mouth kinked up into a smile and you rolled your eyes, wiping your nose with the back of your sleeve.

“Don't make me sound so dramatic, I know it's petty.”

“Mali has been trying to get me to retrieve it since I left so I could see you again,” he interrupted, “but I was convinced you wouldn't want to see me.”

You scoffed, shaking your head as he held the scarf back out for you. “She said you could keep it if you let me in to talk.”

[hrina]

Cuddling with Michael in front of the fireplace felt like…well, you weren’t exactly sure. It was like waking up on a Saturday and realizing that you were able to sleep in. Or coming out of the shower and wrapping yourself in a warm towel. You’d never been able to describe the feeling in a general fashion, words that did it justice. All you knew was that you loved it.

The way his hands wound around your midsection and his cheek brushed your neck made goosebumps erupt along your arms. The fire emitted a low, comforting crackling sound, casting warm glows across the room while a snowy tempest raged outside. Michael hummed slow tunes in your ear as you watched the shadows dance along the walls, the both of you content with your positions and your lives in that moment.

“This is so nice,” he sighed, and you breathed out a small noise of agreement, not wanting to disrupt the serene moment. He brushed his lips against the bare skin of your shoulder, your naked bodies cocooned in a warm fleece blanket.

Your eyes closed as Michael continued to let his hands roam your torso, sweeping up your arms, grasping your hips, flitting mindlessly over your breasts–never failing to tweak your nipples and chuckle cheekily. You let out a quiet laugh, opening your eyes and training them on the fire burning only two feet away, consuming the wood and emitting yellows and oranges that swirled together to create a masterpiece.

With some difficulty, you managed to roll yourself around so that you were facing your boyfriend, your chests pressed together due to the constraining but welcome material of the blanket. You brushed your fingers through his fiery hair, the colour appropriate considering the situation. He shot you a soft smile, his head dipping and his lips brushing against yours.

“God, angel,” he breathed, as though he couldn’t believe he’d gotten this lucky, “I love you so much. You’re–you’re my home.”

Home. It suddenly hit you.

“I love you too, Mikey,” you whispered, the corners of your lips lifting into a dreamy smile, “Always.”

You suddenly knew what cuddling with Michael felt like. Being with him, wrapped in his arms, shielded from harm–it felt like home.

winter!5sos blurb night with @drcpdead​! send in/tag us in your blurbs!

[calumtrashofficial]

"Babe! Come on!" Luke begged and pulled on your hand. He was tugging you up a hill, a warm flannel blanket tucked underneath his other arm, and a warm container of hot chocolate gripped in your empty hand, keeping you semi-warm. You huffed and blew some hair out of your face, trying your best to keep up with Luke's long legs and fast pace. You finally stopped walking, not without slamming into Luke's side because he decided to just stop without warning. You let a low groan tumble from between your mostly frozen lips before they settled into a pout.

"Cheer up, this is going to be awesome!" Luke tried his best to get you out of your sour mood. He was spreading out the blanket at the top of the hill he dragged you up and smiling to himself. Luke had begged you to get out of your warm bed at 10 at night to go watch the eclipse with him and to say you put up a good fight as to not going was undermining the scene. As much as you wished to believe that this was going to be awesome, you were cold and tired and just wanted to watch Greys Anatomy in a blanket nest.

Luke pulled on your hands, grabbing your attention from your negative thoughts. "One blanket for two, madam." He said in a fancy voice, making you smile slightly, one corner of your cold lips tilting upwards. Luke held your hands as you sat down before plopping down next to you and adjusting the beanie on his head so that it covered his ears. You did the same and saw him smile at your action.

"Can I have some hot ch-chocolate?" You asked, pointing towards the thermos that Luke had pulled from your hands earlier and set down on the blanket. He chuckled and nodded, biting his lower lip as he reached over and pulled the thermos in between the two of you. Luke unscrewed the cap and handed you the thermos. As soon as the warm container was in your hands, a sigh of relief escaped your body and you took a giant gulp. You felt the drink warm up your insides and your hands before capping the drink and turning to hand it to Luke who was not there.

You casted your gaze down and saw Luke lying on the blanket, his hands behind his head and his lip ring in his mouth as he stared up at the half dark moon. You took a little bit to just look at your boyfriend and take in his appearance. You let your eyes wander to the top of his head, smiling at his cute little pom beanie that the boys loved to make fun of him for, admiring the way his naturally curly hair was sticking out of the front of the beanie but nowhere else, and noted the slight pink on his cheeks from the cold as you continued to look down his body. He was wearing one of his favorite blue hoodies, which was riding up and showing some of the black tshirt he had on underneath it and even some of his stomach that was underneath the two layers. You had to resist reaching out and tracing circles into the exposed skin, knowing he’d pull his hoodie back down to meet the waist of his favorite black jeans. You know, the one with the giant holes in the knees. Why he chose to wear jeans with giant holes in them in freezing weather was beyond your knowledge but you decided not to question it and accepted that his freezing knees were punishment enough for dragging you out here. You giggled at his shoe choice, his favorite moccasins that he only wore around the house or out of the house when he was sick and shoe laces took too much effort.

“Lay with me.” Luke mumbled and made grabby hands, deciding not to acknowledge that you had been staring for a solid 2 minutes and he had definitely noticed. You sighed dramatically with a real smile on your lips before lying down next to Luke and having him pull you close to his side. You rested your head on his chest and laid your hand on his stomach, feeling it go up and down with each breath he took. You looked up at the sky to see the moon almost completely covered by the shadow of the Earth and you hated to admit it, but it was pretty cool. “This is almost worth getting out of bed for.” You told Luke, earning a chuckle from him and feeling it rumble through his chest. “Well, I’m glad I’m almost entertaining for you.” He replied, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead.

“Hey,” You pouted and lifted your head so you were looking down at your boyfriend whose blue eyes looked a tad grey in the dark but still blue enough to outshine the moon. “My forehead isn’t cold, my lips are.” You couldn’t help the small smile and giggle that pushed past your fake pout. Luke laughed, his warm breath hitting your face as he leaned up on his elbows, trying to close to the space between the two of you. You helped, lowering your head slightly so his lips could catch yours in a soft, gentle kiss. You gasped and pulled away at how cold his lip ring was against your lips. “Babe, your lip ring is freezing.” You commented, pouting once more.

Luke sighed and rolled his eyes, pulling you back into a laying position, resting your head back on his chest and tangling your legs together. You smiled at how warm he was and realized just how uncold you were, something you were not expecting with the freezing weather and how cold you were earlier. His fingers found your hair and he began to play with it as his arm was in the perfect position around your shoulders. “Sorry I can’t be perfect, babe.” He commented, making you chuckle and kiss his chest lightly. “Well, you’re pretty damn close.” You told him and looked up at the now very red blood moon that took your breath away.

“Now, this was worth getting out of bed for.” You told Luke and looked up at him, staring at him looking at the moon. Luke’s eyes flicked down to yours for a second before he focused his attention back on the moon. “What? Me or the moon?” He questioned, sounding slightly distracted as he was trying to watch the moon. You kissed underneath his jaw and snuggled your head further into his chest, lacing your fingers with his hand, that was resting next to yours on his stomach, before sighing with nothing but content and happiness. You smiled and joined your boyfriend in staring at the moon before answering. “Both. Definitely both.”

[julyxvi]

for @tragicash and @hemmocrat‘s breakup!5sos night based on this prompt

The obnoxious ringing of your phone pulled you from your slumber, prompting you to blindly reach for it and answer the call without looking to see who exactly was calling, only thinking that you wanted your phone to stop ringing. 

“Hello?” you asked, voice low and filled with sleep.

“Wow. I didn’t think you’d answer,” a deep, velvety voice breathed, as if unable to believe his good fortune.

“Don’t consider yourself too lucky,” you grumbled, realizing now that it was your ex-boyfriend calling. “I just forgot to silence my phone before I went to bed and didn’t bother looking at caller ID when you called. Had I seen that it was you calling, I would’ve ignored the call and gone back to sleep.”

He chuckled, but it sounded forced. “I’ll take what I can get.”

A beat of silence passed, neither of you saying anything though you could just barely hear noise in the background and you briefly wondered where he was at until you realized you didn’t really care. 

“What do you want, Luke?” you finally asked. “It’s too fucking early for me to be awake right now and talking to someone, let alone talking to you of all people. Do you even know what time it is?”

“Yeah, I know,” he quietly answered. “I still have your city on my phone’s world clock, you know. Not that I really need to look at it to know what time it is where you are no matter where I am in the world, but--” 

He cut himself off, taking a deep breath before he continued. 

“--it’s just...I was getting coffee today and when I went to sit down, someone walked passed me and they were wearing the same perfume you did and it hit me how much I really fucking miss you,” he rambled in an uncharacteristically fast manner, making you surprised that you were even able to understand what he was saying in your half-asleep state. “And that’s how I ended up crying in Starbucks.” 

There was silence again and you were sure that he was waiting -- hoping -- for a reaction -- any reaction -- of sorts, but the problem was that you didn’t know how to react. After all, it’s not every night that your ex, who was the one to end your relationship, called you to tell you that he missed you and cried in a Starbucks because of that.

“Sorry,” Luke eventually said, and you didn’t know how you felt about the fact that you could vividly picture him right now. No doubt he was sitting in one of a plush, burgundy arm chair, running a hand through his hair and pulling at the sandy strands in frustration. “I shouldn’t have told you that and I shouldn’t have called. I know it’s completely inappropriate for me to miss you since I’m the idiot who broke up with you--”

“I can’t believe you still go to Starbucks,” you interrupted.

“--and I’ve been doing my best to cope without you in my life, but this just broke me,” he finished, a beat passing before he registered that you’d spoken. “Wait, what did you say?”

“I can’t believe you still go to Starbucks,” you repeated. “Their coffee’s the worst.”

He laughed and you didn’t think hearing that sound again would make you smile and feel warm inside. “I know,” he agreed, “but it’s convenient and on every corner. Where else am I supposed to get coffee?”

“I imagine even hotel coffee is better than Starbucks coffee, Mr. I-Stay-In-Five-Star-Hotels,” you quipped. “That or just get a Keurig and use that to make coffee.”

“You know I never knew how to use a Keurig,” he reminded you.

“It’s not even that hard!” you laughed.

“The machine just looks so complicated! It’s intimidating!” he defended. “And those k-cups aren’t cheap. I don’t want to waste one just because I don’t know how to use a Keurig properly.”

“You’re hopeless,” you replied softly, feeling your heart fill with a fondness that hadn’t been there in a long time.

“I know,” he agreed again, making the fondness increase. He paused before speaking again. “Do you think you could teach me how to use a Keurig again when I get back? We could catch up over the coffee we make too, if you wanted?”

A lump formed in your throat at what your ex was proposing. “If you can remember to ask me again at a time of day where people aren’t meant to be sleeping and are actually awake and functioning, then I might say yes,” you managed to say.

“I’m going to set an alarm,” he promised, and knowing him, he probably actually would. “I’ll speak to you in a few hours?”

"You’ll just have to see when you make that call, won’t you?” you asked, even though you already knew exactly what you would do when he next called.

“I guess so,” he answered, the light tone to his voice telling you that he also already knew what you would do when he next called. “Goodnight, Y/N. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight, Luke.”

The call ended and you laid in bed turning your phone over in your hands afterwards, mulling over whether or not you would flip the switch to silence your phone for the rest of the night. The only reason you’d started silencing your phone before going to bed in the first place was because Luke had recently started calling you late at night, speaking to your voicemail instead when he realized he couldn’t actually speak to you. 

You placed your phone back on your nightstand, deciding that you wouldn’t silence your phone and wanted to know right away when he next called.

[ignitesluke]

An ugly blurb (okay it’s like a thousand words so not really a blurb lmao) I prepared for @hemmocrat & @tragicash‘s breakup!5sos blurb night !! It’s a bit all over the place and I suck at writing angst ok I’m a fluff chick but ??? It’s based on a prompt from here and I’m really sorry this is late omg ok bye enjoy !!

Cushioned slippers provided relief for your aching feet as you groggily climbed out of bed, murmured curses falling from between your tired lips. Whomever decided to knock upon your door at three in the morning was about to get an earful from you; your brain racking against your skull as it throbbed with an aching to sleep.

You were almost certain you were in the midst of a nightmare when you hastily pulled open the door to reveal the one and only boy you thought you had left in the past. Heart stammering and face burning red, you felt your brain avert it’s focus from sleep, sleep, sleep to Calum, Calum, Calum.

“What the fuck is this?” Your eyes trailed to the formal piece of cardboard that was curled between the slender fingers Calum held up before you, the sight enough to make them almost pop from their safe haven inside your head.

“How did you —?”

“You fuckin’ tell me, Y/N, because I have no clue how or why this showed up in my mailbox.” Your ex-boyfriend’s words were sharp with bitterness, your face curling up in disgust at the scent of alcohol that fell from his breath.

“I didn’t send that to you, Calum. It must’ve been Ryan, or somethin’. I don’t know.”

“You’re not getting married. You can’t fuckin’ be getting married. No fucking way.” It took everything in you not to break down in tears, your arms becoming the dwelling to thousands of goosebumps as you suddenly felt a hundred degrees colder in a place you thought you were happy to call your home. It had been approximately one hundred and twenty two ( not that you were counting ) days since you had last seen Calum.

You had not expected the next time to be like this.

“Stop cursing — my neighbors have kids.” It was all that you seemed to be able to muster out in this whirlwind of confusion, watching as every brunette curl ( except the ones that were matted upon his forehead with sweat, a telltale sign he was angry ) shook in unison with his head.

“Or you can stop fucking avoiding the question. When did this happen? Why?” Your eyebrows furrowed together in frustration as his voice childishly raised at the curse word and all you could even begin to think was “typical Calum”. You had always known Calum to be a bit of a smart ass, ignoring even your most slightest of pleas in hopes that you would laugh; that he would hear the bells chime from your throat and the sunshine gleam from your smile. He was a typical comedian, a typical joker, a typical boyfriend who wanted to piss off his girlfriend with lighthearted intent. Except it wasn’t so typical when he was absolutely shitfaced and he was angry beyond compare and he wasn’t just tickling the crap out of you and doing the complete opposite when you squealed at him to stop. This wasn’t typical.

This was heartless.

You found the strength within yourself to wrap your fingers around his bicep and pull him into your quiet home, assuring yourself it was purely for the kids’ sake.

“What do you mean why?“ You hissed. “Maybe because he proposed to me? Maybe because I’m in love with him? Maybe because he didn’t fucking leave me?” And even you could admit; that was unnecessary. Especially when you saw the hurt flicker in Calum’s deep eyes, his jaw clenching with uncertainty. You watched as the shadows of your dim living room danced upon his sharp edged face, causing him to appear as nothing but a mere silhouette in the accompaniment of a nightmare.

“Y/N. We — fuck, we were made for each other. You can’t be getting married to another guy, you just — you can’t.” That was when the boy broke, his voice faltering from angry to absolutely devastated. “You know me leaving you was a mistake. You know. You know from the seven hundred fucking texts I’ve left, the thousands of voice mails, the trillions of times I’ve looked into the crowd in hopes of seeing your fucking annoying smile, only to be let down yet again. You know I never wanted to leave you. You know I wanted to fix this. Why wouldn’t you just let me try?” Calum practically cried the words, his naturally raspy voice becoming deeper with every word he uttered and it was enough to knock the wind right out of you. It made your heart sink into your stomach and you were almost certain you were going to throw up then and there; but you weren’t going to grant him that satisfaction. He wasn’t being fair. You were finally happy — you had moved on, you had found yourself a guy who treated you right and had even proposed for God’s sake. You wished Calum had done the same. ( whether you meant moved on or proposed to you; you weren’t sure )

“You’re being selfish,” You murmured weakly, your words not coming out as strong as you had hoped and you silently prayed he couldn’t hear your voice quivering. “I moved on Calum! That’s what you do when you break up with somebody. I wasn’t going to torture myself with fuckin’ broken memories and words I wish I had said. I’m getting married three months from today, and that’s not changing.” The bassist’s fingers clung to the invitation tightly and you couldn’t help but feel your head spin as his words hurtled with absolute desperation.

“God, you don’t think I tried to move on, Y/N? Fuck — I tried with every fiber of my being. But it’s so goddamn hard when I see you in everything I do. I can’t make a coffee without fucking thinking about how I don’t need to remember your two sugars anymore, and I can’t wear my favorite shirt without thinking about how good it used to look on your body and I can’t look at the stars without thinking that they will never even come close to the sparkle in your eyes and I can’t listen to stupid fuckin’ love songs anymore because they always bring me back to you and I hate it. I’m sorry I fucked up. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you deserved. I’m sorry I’m still in love with you. I’m just so fucking sorry.”